The Forsaken
by serpentsrose
Summary: Stan keeps waking up in the night to Nightmares. Will he learn their true meaning, or is history doomed to repeat itself once more? Style.
1. The Nightmare

The Forsaken

By: Serpentsrose

Disclaimer: everything besides the idea for this story and their actions belong to Tray Parker and Matt Stone. And those oh so good folks at Comedy Central. I make nothing off these besides warm fuzzy feelings and an ego boost. Which I'm sure they can knock down without a law suit. Lets not waste the time and money okay?

A/N: Okay here is another one. Coming to you due to my anthropology class. Damn well if nothing inspires me but a morning in anthropology. Which is funny since I hate that class. Well enjoy and let me know what you think. And let me know of any major errors anywhere even in my authors note. It is appreciated and will be corrected as soon as I long back on. Thanks again. Bai~

Chapter 1: The Nightmare

***Dream***

_Stan was running, his breath was coming in broken, painful gasps. He was pushing, shoving, being pushed and shoved. All around him was chaos, shouts and jeers mixed in with cries of horror and disbelief. He didn't know where he was going all he knew was that he had to get to the front of the crowd. Nothing else mattered. He breaks his way through, and falls to his knees gathering a broken figure into his arms. The blood from the ground soaking through the material of his pants, as the last of it soaks into his hands never to be free from its taint. It crashed over him in such a force it knocked his breath away. He had failed. He was to late. He was dead…_

***Dream end*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Stan shots out of bed, a silent scream ripping out of his throat as he struggled to regain his breath. His heart hammering in the silent's of the South Park winter. He runs a shakily hand through his hair as he glances in the direction of his alarm clock. With a disgusted snort he falls back into his bed, reaching to his bedside table his fingers curl around his phone, all the while hitting the familiar speed-dial number.

Sliding out of bed as the phone rang he walks to his bedroom window watching as the snow gently fell to the ground. The phone clicks and a tired voice comes onto the other line. "Hey, dude."

Stan swallows, "Kyle?" he leans against the window frame his back to the snow falling outside.

"Yeah." Kyle replies quietly, half awake.

"Dude, I can't sleep." Stan runs his hand through his hair again in a frustrated gesture that he could never seem to get rid of.

"Another nightmare." Kyle asks.

Stan doesn't know why he asks. It wasn't like he didn't already know the answer, but that was just Kyle always had to be sure, never assume. "Yeah."

"Dude, that's the third night this week."

" I know." Stan felt tired and it reflected in his voice. He had been over this, last night and the night before. He didn't know what he would do if he didn't have Kyle to talk it over with. The dreams had started about a month ago, and he was sure they would of driven him insane. Stan huffs, they still might.

"Was it the same?" Kyle's voice was clear, was wide wake now and Stan knew their was no going back to sleep for either of them.

"Yeah, I just …I just felt so helpless, yeah know?" Stan didn't even have to see Kyle to know he was nodding, it was just a super best friend thing. You knew that they were doing without even looking.

There was rustling on the other line as Kyle got out of bed and headed to his computer. Stan could hear the hum and clicks from it coming to life beneath the Jewish boy's fingers. "Was there anything different?" Kyle asks this question every night Stan calls about this nightmare and most of the time there was nothing different. Tonight there was.

"I could feel the blood on my hands." Stan chocks up, leaning heavier against the window frame for support, his knees getting weak under him.

"Stan?" Kyle sounded concerned, Stan could tell he had stood up, by the creak of the old office chair. " Do you need me to come over?"

Stan glances around his room, to be honest with himself he wanted nothing more then to have Kyle to come over, but, he knew better Kyle was still grounded from the last time he had sunk out. If Shelia caught him again no matter what the reason, Stan won't be surprised if she put bars on his window. "No…dude, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Kyle asks, Stan closes his eyes hating himself, he was no were close to fine. Fuck, he wasn't in the same zip code. Pinching his nose in frustration he fights with himself. "Do.. Do you think I can come over there?"

Kyle sounds surprised for a second, but recovers quickly. "Yeah, no problem. I'll just go unlock the back door right now. You know which steps are the bad ones right?"

"Yeah, third one from the top, right." Stan says reaching over grabing his jacket and hat sliding them in to place. He would grab his shoes in the living room on the way out. There was no time to grab a change of clothes and it wasn't like Kyle hadn't seen him in worse.

"Glad you remember. See you soon."

Kyle was just about to hang up when Stan interrupted. "Hey dude?"

"Yeah"

"Thanks."

Stan could hear Kyle's smile as he replies. " Hey no problem you'd do it from me. Just be careful okay. The snow is bound to have left some black ice on the side walk. I would hate to have to come and find out if you hurt yourself."

Stan laughs and gives a quick goodbye, before pocketing the phone and headed downstairs to the living room grabbing his shoes. Before he leaves he washes his hands in the kitchen sink, giving up after a while, he heads outside in the direction of Kyle's house. Hopefully his hands would feel clean before he got there. He would hate to touch Kyle with blood on his hands.


	2. Reoccuring

By: Serpentsrose

Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with South Park or the characters and places used in this fan fiction. They belong to Messer. Tray Parker and Matt Stone. Who in turn belong to Comedy Central.

A/N: Okay second chapters up. For those who are reading my other story Speakeasy don't worry I'm working on the fourth chapter and shall have it out soon. I got asked ages for this story and I thought I should share the answer with everyone because it is helpful to know. I'm Placing them in the age range of 14 going on 15 but depending on were I'm going it may end up being 16. I'll let you know when it becomes set in stone. I'm not one to argue much with my muse.^^

Chapter 2 Reoccurring

Stan walked down the street towards Kyle's house part of him already wishing he had taken the time back at his house to change into some thing warmer than his old pajamas. Rubbing his arms together through is coat sleeves he shivers slightly, turning down the Broflovski's front walk, he speeds into a light jog, hoping to warm himself up slightly before he reaches the door. Opening the door Stan gives a small happy sigh as the warm air rushes out to great him as he makes his way inside.

Gently closing the door behind him he kicks off his shoes and gathers them into his hand. Shelia would kill him if he managed to trail snow through her clean house. Sometimes she was a worse Nazi then Cartman was. Not that he would ever say that out loud. He liked his life every much thank you. Making his way upstairs he knocks softly on Kyle's bedroom door before entering.

Kyle was sitting on his bed, a worn paperback held close to his chest fingers marking his page. Stan steals a quick glance at its cover, it was the book he had gotten him for his birthday three years ago. Stan smiles, Kyle had wanted that book for months but couldn't get it due to the fact that that he had to save up his money for something, Stan couldn't even remember now. Kyle's hair was up in a French braid. A habit he had gotten into after showering at night, saying that it helped keep his hair out of the way when wet. Stan personally thought it was the reason Kyle had such a big Jew-fro, but just like the comment about Kyle's mother Stan knew how and when to keep his mother shut. Watching his father making an ass out of himself all these years had paid off.

Stan takes his coat off and drapes it over the back of the desk chair. It hadn't been snowing hard outside but it was enough were if he didn't hang it up correctly it would be wet in the morning. Placing his shoes next to Kyle's, he settles himself on the bed next to Kyle who shifts slightly to give him more room. Stan likes this its comfortable nothing like you would except from a teenage boys room. Kyle's room was always clean, with it was because of Shelia being a Nazi or just Kyle's natural cleanness it didn't matter. It was different then his room, it felt warmer, safer somehow. And as he closed his eyes relaxing to the light classical music coming from Kyle's speakers. He wonders if he would be able sleep the whole night through.

Kyle's Pov.

Kyle watches as Stan falls asleep seconds after his head hit's the pillows. With a fond sigh he reaches over a grabs his bookmark sliding it into place, before setting the book down on the bedside table. Getting up quickly careful not to wake Stan, Kyle turns off his bedroom light and computer before heading back to his bed. Gentle he reaches over and takes of Stan's hat placing it next to his own, before tugging the covers over his raven-haired friend. Getting in himself he snuggles close figuring that they could talk about he nightmares in the morning. Sleep was more important right now

_*Stan's dream*_

_He was running again. He had to stop this. This time he would not fail. Stan dodges an elbow and pushes his way forward. He's breath once again coming in pained gasps. He breaks his way through and his heart sinks. He was to late always too late. His hands clench as he drops to his knees. Already he could feel the blood soaking into his knees from the ground. Robotically he gathers the broken form into his arms. Holding it closer to his chest, he buries his face into the rapidly cooling body. The blood dripping slowly from is fingers to the ground below. Slowly he raises his head, just in time to see the life fade from familiar green eyes. "Kyle…?"_

_*dream ends*_

"Kyle!" Stan screams out as he shots from bed, his who body shaking in terror that seemed so common these last few nights. He glances around , he wasn't in his room. He looks down and see's Kyle blinking and disoriented from the sudden wake up.

"Stan?" Kyle asked in a groggy tone.

"Kyle." Stan whispers relief crashing through him. "Oh, thank God." It wasn't real. Kyle was right here in bed, next to him. Safe.

"Stan?" Kyle questions again leaning up on his elbows. The very thought that he could lose Kyle suddenly hit him, like a ton of bricks and before he could even tell what he was doing he had his arms wrapped around the red-head. His face buried in his throat.

The sudden weight cause Kyle to fall back on the bed and he blinks as he places his hands on Stan's arms gently. Glancing over Stan's head at he clock he noted that is was five o' clock. There was no way they were getting back to sleep tonight. He looks back down at Stan and notices his friend shaking. "Stan?" He asks concerned feeling moisture on his neck, it strikes him that Stan was crying. "What's wrong, was it the dream?"

Stand looked up from Kyle's neck and catches his eyes. His eyes where rimmed red and his voice shook as he spoke. "I was to late, I….I couldn't save you."

Kyle furrows his eyebrows confused. "Save me? Why would you need to save me" Shortly after asking his eye's light up in understanding. "It was me, in your dream." It was a statement, short and simple, causing Stan to take Kyle's hands in his. "I won't fail again."

"Fail wait?" Kyle asks.

"I'll keep you safe. Even if it kills me."

Kyle blinks, as if not sure what to say before saying two words. "I know."


	3. The Morning After

Forsaken

by Serpentsrose

Disclaimer: I have not and most likely will never own any part of the series known as South Park. And make not profit from this that can be measured in a monetary value only sentimental.

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I found my old notebook with this story in it reread everything and decided to give the next chapter a go hopefully this will be the start of more creativity on my part... we can only hope. Today's my Birthday, so I decided to gift you all with this chapter today instead of waiting for later so enjoy and happy new years. Read and Review.~

Chapter 3 The Morning After

Sitting down to breakfast in Kyle's kitchen and hour or so later, Stan couldn't help but feel mildly embarrassed by his earlier breakdown. He brought his cup of coffee to his lips and he slowly sips allowing the bitter liquid to burn its way down his throat in small increments as he watched Kyle move his way around the kitchen, with a easy of motion that Stan was sure he would never master.

Kyle's mother and father had left but fifteen minutes before leaving it safe for Stan to leave the safely of his best friends bedroom and down to the kitchen where he currently sat. Ike was at a friends house having spent the night to work on a school project and wasn't due back until later that evening. This was perfect because it left Stan and Kyle alone for the day. Groundings didn't count from much with no one around to enforce or in Ike's case tattle on it being broken.

Kyle sets down breakfast in front of him cause him to smile softly from behind his coffee cup, he had grown found of the bitter liquid during his short stint as Raven, and even though he put the emo faze behind him he could still be seen enjoying a cup from time to time. He found it helped calm his nerves which he need after last nights revelations. Glancing across the table to where Kyle had taken his seat Stan feel his hands tightening on his mug, before he made himself release it gently setting it on the kitchen table.

Saying a small prayer of grace over his meal he tucks in to his breakfast his eyes turning back towards Kyle as he was to ask about the red-heads plans for the day before stops. The sun from the breaking dawn shines lightly through the window illuminating Kyle's head forming a fiery halo, mixed with the benevolent smile on his lips made him pause caught up in a memory.

_ "You have to drink something." The voice came from his right as a battered cup was pushed gently into his hands, fingers curled around his own insuring he held on as it was was directed towards his mouth. He could feel the cool metal as it was pressed against is chapped and bleeding lips. Feeling sweet relief as the cool liquid moved its was down his throat._

_ "Their you go," the voice was gentle encouraging and he moved his other hand to grasp the arm trying to hold the cup in places as he drank his fill. His whole body moving closer to the voice with its kind words and life giving water. "That's it drink your fill. There's plenty more." His hands shook as he finally moves away from the water having drank his fill, slowly opening his eyes crusted by sleep and tears he see's a fiery halo. And a kind smile directed down at him. "Who are you...?"_

A crash breaks Stan out of his day dream and back to Kyle's kitchen where he quickly glance at his coffee cup lying broking on the tile floor the remainder of his coffee spilling away from him as if trying to escape is presence. It wasn't until Kyle appeared next to him that he realized that he to had ended up on the floor along side is cup.

"Kyle..?" His voice came out weak and uncertain as he glanced back from the cup to Kyle's face trying to figure out what had just occurred.

" Oh my God, Stan." Stan could feel Kyle's hands along his back and shoulders as he try to help him from the floor. " Are you okay?"

Stan's eyes went back the the coffee cup on the floor and mentally winched, it was one of Shelia's favorites. The on that Stan himself had picked up for a couple Hanukkahs ago figuring that everyone deserved something during the Christmas season even if they didn't celebrate. He hoped Kyle won't get in trouble for that. Moving his hand to grasp Kyle's in an attempt to get up he finds himself once again lost.

_ "Who are you...?"_

_ The voice chuckles lightly, it was a melodious sound, one that Stan was found himself wanting to hear more of. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? After all your the one who was thrown into my cell."_

_ Stan blinks not quite aware of his surroundings taking a moment to take in the hard packed dirt floor that he was laying on. The bits of straw littered on the ground and stuck to his clothes and the merger looking cot that appears to have been thrown in as an after thought. Then up to the tiny bared window that seem to be the only source of light before turning back to his apparent savior. "Cell? What have I done?"_

_ The voice chuckled again and Stan despite his pain and confusion felt a little better, there was something magical about that voice he decided something benevolent, blessed. " That's funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing."_

Something cool and moist was pressed against his forehead raising his hand to figure out what it was when he was meet with fingers. Blinking he takes in his surroundings, he notices that his head somehow ended up in Kyle's lap and that of the kitchen towels draped across his forehead. Kyle taking his hand holding it against his chest gently, concern lining his features.

"Wha-" Stan began before he was cut off by Kyle who shushed him gently. " Don't try to talk, Stan you just fainted twice in my kitchen, don't extort yourself." Reaching out of Stan's line of sight he grabs a glass of water from the table and slowly brings it down to Stan's waiting lips. "Here try this, it might help."

As the glass pressed against his lips Stan couldn't help compare it to what he had just experienced moments before. The water feeling just as refreshing and life giving as when it had past his lips earlier and with every tiny mouthful he felt some of his strength returning to him. Pushing the glass away Stan slowly moves to stand up, being help into his chair by Kyle who looked as if he believe that Stan would fall down on him at any minute. Glancing back down on the floor to the broken coffee cup he guessed that it wasn't to far from the truth. Clearing his this throat he looks Kyle in the eyes trying to find is bearing. Shaking his head slightly trying to clear up the remaining cobwebs, he turn back to Kyle. "I figured out when I first met you."

"So you were thrown into my prison cell?" They had moving into the living room, Kyle having cleaned up the broken coffee cup and the rest of the breakfast dishes, despite Stan's protest that he was good enough to help. The T.V. was turned on in the background showing reruns of some old reality show as background noise no one was paying it any attention.

Stan nodded to Kyle watching as the other boy pulls out his blood glucose meter and tests his blood sugar level, humming in approval as it appears in the acceptable range. " That or a jail cell, I don't know the floors where dirt, it wasn't something modern."

Kyle put his meter in his kit and moves it to its detonated spot in the living room. " I wonder what I was in for.?"

" I don't know." Stan replies staring blankly into the television, but not really seeing it. " But I wish I did."

Stan fells and hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Kyle joining him on the couch.

"Don't worry dude. I'm sure we'll figure something out, it will be fine."

Stan despite Kyle's reassurances still feels the familiar feeling of dread settle in is gut. He feels as if he's done this all before, and last time around it turned out anything but fine. Reaching up he feels Kyles fingers under his, repeating the mantra that has become is pray the last few weeks, this time he won't fail.


End file.
